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// Prologue - Who am I? 
// Story: Steady Shot's - In the Military 
// by Derpsterette 
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I have gone through a horrible experience and I don't know what to do. I can hear their screams in my head, the thunder of rifles hitting flesh. I've decided writing down how I feel will help me think about my feelings. I don't think any of what I would say would make sense if I didn't explain who I was or my history. 

My name is Steady Shot, I am, or was, Second in Command of Her Majesty Queen Victoria's 10th Colonial Division. I come from a small family as a single foal, to my father Accurate Shot and my mother Steady Hoof. 

My father was a Pegasus ranker in the Crimean War of 1853. Pegasus rankers were more valued over Earth and Unicorn rankers due to Pegasus mobility and more innate battle skills, because of his background as a minor noble,  and due to his abilities on the field of battle, alongside my mother's noble connections, after the war he quickly ascended to the rank of Captain to command his own company of soldiers, to eventually lose his life in the second Opium war of 1856 - 1860. He was a brilliant soldier who fought valiantly, which lead to me looking up to him, for better or for worse.

When I was a foal I was sent to the local school, King Edward VI Grammar School, I made little to no effort to make friends, I didn't really care for my education, I knew my times tables, I thought "Isn't that all I need to know?" I barely passed my GCSE's that was all I needed to get into the military as a soldier and that is what I did. When I became 18 I enlisted to join the army, and I was almost immediately sent out to a settlement in South Africa in 1864.

I was trained on how volley fire worked, which commands meant what, the whole shebang. I made some good friends like pike and shot, they were twins, and very good at pretending to be each other, leading to some mischief which got them in quite a lot of trouble. Another friend I made was Gunpowder, he was a cannoneer and very good at reloading a cannon, the fastest in the battalion.

Three years into my service I saw my first bit of action, in the British Expedition of Abyssinia 1867 - 1868 where our battalion was moved because of a greater need of Line Infantry. Our battalion never really saw the front lines, except in the siege of Magdala. It was on that day in which I got my first taste of blood, I didn't know how I felt about it then, I still don't know how I feel now, it was a horrible act done in seconds, but yet I felt indifferent, does that make me a bad Pony? I don't know. We were able to rescue the hostages which is good, I guess. Only two British soldiers died, which is a success technically, but loss of life isn't, so I'm divided.

When we won that war I was much more enthusiastic of our victory then, than I am now. I guess I've finally grown to see reason. Pike and Shot threw a celebration when we got back to South Africa, our "First Military Engagement" party. A pretty pitiful party if I look back at it, we celebrated surviving a battle, not much worth celebrating but at the same time survival in a war is rare.

The next war I partook in was the Third Ashanti War. I thought they acted like savages back then, sacrificing ponies for a better harvest, using the bodies to ward off evil spirits. I remember looking one of them in the eyes as I blew their brains out, again I felt nothing, only now I wish I did, maybe then I wouldn't have stayed in the military.

Now I look back on it, the Ashanti's weren't savages none of the Africans were. We were the true savages, killing and subduing other ponies for being "inferior", and to better our "Empire". Separating families so we could  control them better, it was and still is truly horrific.

The real horror however started during the first Boer War. What I am going to be writing next will be my recollection of the battle of Rorke's Drift, and the horror which comes along with that battle. The battle that finally opened my eyes to this horror.